


Mission Incomplete

by palmtreelights



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Operation Overdrive
Genre: Canon Character of Color, F/M, Gen, Male Character of Color, Post-Battle, Pre-Relationship, Shippy Gen, Team Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmtreelights/pseuds/palmtreelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, Ronny cannot run on empty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Incomplete

Morphing had given Ronny enough energy to make up for how much the Fearcats had taken from her, enough to fight and win and make it back to the mansion and through debriefing, but on their way back above ground, her knees give way, and her head narrowly misses a collision with the wall solely because Will is there to catch her.

Dax, Mack, and Tyzonn have gone up ahead of them to train, and Rose has stayed behind to help Spencer and Mr. Hartford. In the few seconds Ronny is out cold, Will hears Dax whoop as the elevator doors shut. The hallway is silent and empty.

He rolls his eyes. After all the lecturing he’d endured about how he was on a team now and how that meant watching out for one another, no one else thinks it’s a good idea to keep an eye on Ronny? Sure, she looks no worse now than any of the rest of them ever do after a battle, but he remembers how sweaty and pale she’d looked before he’d cut the wire on that console, how drawn her eyes had seemed, how she’d been too drained to even look afraid.

None of the others had seen that, and Ronny had pushed through on adrenaline and that boost from the morphing grid, so of course they’d all go on as if nothing had happened. Even Ronny, clearly, because she could have asked to have a scan done if she’d remembered.

“I’m okay,” Ronny mumbles, burying her face in Will’s jacket. “Five more minutes.”

Smirking, he lowers his mouth to her ear and says, “I’m a lot of great things, Ronny, but a pillow is not one of them.”

She freezes, gasps, and pushes away from him almost all at once. He doesn’t let her go quite yet, though, keeping a hand on her arm to steady her, because she looks like she’s ready to pass out again, but for an altogether different reason.

He bites back a laugh with moderate success.

“Sorry, Will,” she says, laughing as she regains her composure. Her cheeks are still flushed, but the look in her eyes is more Ronny now, less walking dead. “But, um, thanks for—catching me, I guess?”

“You fell,” he tells her, pulling back his hand. “Well, almost.”

“I figured.” She shrugs, glancing up at the ceiling. “Guess it’s not the best time to ask if you want to play Mario Kart with me, huh?”

“No. You _did_ almost die back there, so yeah, trying to steal the metaphorical trophy from me right now is probably not the way to go.” He smirks when he says it, but he frowns, too, equal parts worried and amused.

She takes one step backwards, toward the elevator. “Please, you’re just scared I’m gonna beat you again, even like this.”

 _You almost died_ , he nearly repeats, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She didn’t, that’s that, and she is not going to win their next race. “Oh yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” she scoffs, still walking backwards. “Come on, I’ve won how many times now? Fifty-three to your twelve? Not that I’m keeping score or anything.”

He follows, shaking his head as he adds the numbers in his head. “We’ve played more times than that.”

“Races where we’ve used blue shells don’t count! Clean races only.” She glances over her shoulder and stops in front of the doors.

“Oho, so _that’s_ —”

It’s so quick this time, the strength leaving her, and she’s almost graceful in how she starts to fall mid-motion, fingers just having touched the panel by the elevator. He swoops in to keep her off the floor, succeeding only halfway. The impact of her hip against the smooth concrete jolts her awake with a hissed gasp.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” he tells her, softening the words with half a laugh.

“No blue shells,” she insists as the elevator zips down toward them, audible to them both. She leans on him as they get to their feet again, gripping his uniform jacket like a lifeline, wincing. “Or red ones.”

“Whoa, that’s a little intense, don’t you think?” It’s only after he speaks that he realizes he’s kept his voice down. They’re close, still holding onto each other and nearly eye to eye, and she hasn’t pushed back from him this time. Maybe she’s afraid of falling again.

Or maybe not.

“Green shells and banana peels only,” she says, and he swears her cheeks turn pinker. “A test of speed and skill, like real racing.”

He arches his eyebrows. “No stars? No Bullet Bills?”

She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need her to. There are no such items in real races, and for all that they have ancient relics and stones of power and Ranger tech at their backs, at the end of the day, it’s all on them, the team—each individual and the whole.

The elevator arrives, and the doors slide open with a quiet _whoosh_ , breaking the silence.

“Thanks for saving me,” she says, eyes wide, the whole of her more sincere than he’s ever seen her.

He’s not used to this level of trust. This team has messed with his head, but he’s starting to realize that’s not a bad thing.

Shrugging, he tells her, “You saved me first.”

She chuckles and gives him a little smile. “Um—I’m gonna need help getting upstairs.”

Nodding, he nudges her and guides them both into the elevator. “Yeah, if you thought I wasn’t planning on doing that, you’re wrong. My mission to get you home safe clearly isn’t over yet.”

She laughs as the elevator doors shut, and the only indication that the transition from stillness to upward motion affects her is in how she leans closer. “No stars, no Bullet Bills. Just good, clean racing.”

There’s a glint in her eyes that surely mirrors the one in his, and he envisions them racing to an audience of the rest of the team, the lights dimmed, the volume on the TV on high.

He grins at her, smug. “You’re on.”


End file.
